Cliché
by Alsepang.Tyun
Summary: AU. DarienSerena. Oldest cliché ever once upon a time, a boy and a girl hated each other. They grew up, met each other again, and fell in love.


**Title**: Cliché

**Author**: Alsepang

**Part 1**: The Great Fall

**Rating**: PG-13

**E-mail**: alsepang. It is a widely known and indisputable fact that Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon belongs only to Naoko Takeuchi and whichever companies and their franchises she has assigned whatever copyrights of merchandise, television, film, etc. to. This story was not written for profit on the writer's part and was never intended to be used for any such gain.

**Warning:** This is AU. Names used are the American version, Serena, Darien, etc. Also there is an OC, who was required as a plot device.

**Notes**: I wrote this many years ago as a first foray into fanfiction, and posted it to A Sailor Moon Romance. The site is no longer in existence, and I do want Cliché to remain on the web, posted by my own hand, so I have decided to put it up on This story is perhaps seven years old, and I could have edited it, but I decided to leave it as it is, flaws and all... So please excuse the sap and the drivel, because there's some good writing in this.

* * *

_**Cliché- Part 1 **_

We were never good friends. Mortal enemies, yes. But chums? It didn't matter that our parents were close friends and next-door neighbours. We couldn't get within five hundred metres of each other without hurling insults or engaging in all-out fistfights. To him, I was the little girl who was not worthy enough to be his playmate (where he got such a ridiculous idea, I'll never know). To me, he was the boy who was the worst pain in the neck I had ever known and the most arrogant little chauvinist I had ever met (I know where I got such an idea-from the horrible way he behaved!).

We went to school together, but it didn't improve relations between us. If anything, we became even more passionate in our rivalry. I felt a fierce rush of triumph every time I managed to beat him in something and an equally sharp sense of bitterness whenever he bested me.

Academically, we were undeniably rivals who competed to see who could carry off the most honours at the end of each year. Sports wise, he was the usual stereotypical school jock who seemed determined to carry off the captaincies of every darned sport he entered in. I didn't join any sport except figure skating, but at least I went all the way to the finals of the state championship and won it.

"God, but he is so cute!" I don't know how many times I had to put up with my friends saying that, year in, year out. I didn't like it much, either, when he dated them-and he dated every single one of my friends right through high school. Sometimes I think he did it to rub it into me the fact that he would never take so much as a second glance at me. Of course it hurt. For grief's sake, I was not a pretty girl, although all my friends were exceptionally gorgeous-- I'm certain that's why he went out with them, though I heard something to the effect that he said they had far better personalities than I did. One of his ways of making me feel as low as possible, I suppose. He had to rub it in.

Anyway, to get back to what I was saying before I digressed...yes, well, he was considered the hottest guy all through grade school, middle school and high school. Wouldn't you know it?

"That thick, dark, silky hair-oh, what wouldn't I give to run my hands through it! He also has the most beautiful eyes-- so deep, so dark, and yet so blue, like sapphires! Oh, and his body! I swear he has the hottest body from here to the ends of the earth!"

I had to listen to such routine swooning over him by my closest friends and I prided myself on the fact that I always kept my cool, restricting my responses to a simple rolling of my eyes or a facial expression that expressed all the distaste I had for such a subject. He had an ego the size of the solar system and I did not see why I should help add to it.

When we passed out of high school, I rejoiced. No more running into that conceited and insufferable bane of my high school life. We were going our separate ways, each to a different university. He went to Stanford and I to Northwestern. Two worlds apart. Still, I was pleased to have him out of the way. For the first time in my life, I could do whatever I liked without fearing that he would be watching me every step of the way.

I didn't see him for the next four years. I hardly returned home during vacations, spending my time working at various places or helping out with friends at various volunteer projects. I did go home for Christmases, but I never did see him because he was always halfway around the world with his parents. Not that I missed him, mind you. Ahem.

Then I came home for good. I graduated with high honours from Northwestern and returned with the glory of a full-fledged university graduate on my brow. I planned to take a six-month break relaxing from the rigours of school before settling down to a job. There were already at least five offers in my mail. He was back, too, but I did not see him as I was too caught up in renewing friendships.

There was a high school reunion for my year a month after I came home. I remember the night as clearly as if it had taken place just the day before. I could not wait to see everyone again.

"Girl, you look good!" exclaimed one of my old friends, giving me a hug. I returned the hug and laughed warmly.

"Thanks! So do you!"

"Yeah, but not as good as you. You look gorgeous... I mean, you've always been pretty, Sere, but now... you've got charm, sophistication, style-- oh, my god!"

"Hunh?"

There he was. He had just come in and I knew him for who he was the moment our eyes met. I saw him, not the boy I had known all my childhood, but the man that he now was and the person that he had always been-the person that had always been hidden from my sight. In one short split-second, I knew him for who he was. We held each other's gazes for a long moment.

"He is cuter than ever! Oh, my god!"

Here we go again. This time, I privately agreed, although I was not going to say so. He had acquired a manliness that was very attractive, but retained the familiar boyish yet sensual charm that used to make girls fall at his feet-- and still did. I did not have to watch him to see how he charmed with his wit, his intelligence, his humour, his inherently gentle nature... For me, what really counted was the fact that the boy had become a man... a man I was all too aware of.

Awkwardness kicked in. We barely acknowledged each other, save a faint, almost careless nod on his part and an almost absent nod on mine. How do you speak to someone you haven't had an hour's civil conversation with in all your life? Besides, we had never liked each other and never would. He had made my life in high school absolute hell, insulting me about every little thing. In all fairness, I hadn't let him off lightly either.

In any case, I could not allow myself to fall for him. He would laugh if he ever knew and I had too much pride to allow him to laugh at me. It would only grant him an additional hold over me. But it would be so easy to love him. He was incredibly handsome, impossibly charming, undeniably intelligent, surprisingly gentle-he was good at heart too, although I was and would always be the sole person he left out of his pleasantries and kindnesses. Some years ago, I would have pushed aside such thoughts and considered myself mad for even thinking that he had positive qualities. I was an adult now, though, and more tolerant and judicious. Age does add maturity.

One evening, he brought someone to dinner. It was one of those days that our parents had set aside for dinner with each other.

I was walking from the study to my bedroom, carrying a crystal figurine in my hands. It was in the shape of two swans, their delicate necks forming a perfect heart and about six inches across, glittering brilliantly as it caught the lights. It was absolutely exquisite and extremely delicate. My friend had sent it from Boston just the day before and it was a very expensive and exclusively issued Swarovski piece. I appreciated both the thought and the cost! As I walked across the landing, I thought I heard voices and ducked behind one of those huge houseplants my mother insists on keeping. From behind the plant, I peered over he banisters.

Hmm... my mother was talking to two people. One was ahem, him. The other--

"This is my girlfriend..."

She was everything that was perfect, everything I was not and could never be. Long, dark hair framed a face that had beautiful green eyes and a stunning smile. I saw that she was everything he would never see in me. Tall, beautiful, intelligent, sophisticated, gentle, sweet, perfect...

The crystal piece slipped from my fingers. I watched, dazed, as it crashed to the polished parquet underfoot and shattered almost heartbreakingly. The sound was clear and slashed painfully through the house... I felt a strange, intent pain tear right through the centre of my being... it tightened fiercely and I gripped the banister, almost sobbing with pain...

Mechanically, I bent down to pick up the pieces. The floor blurred into a kaleidoscopic whirl of colours as my eyes filled with tears but I ignored it, reaching blindly to pick up the crystal shards I knew would cut my fingers...anything was better than the sudden, inexplicable wrenching in my soul...

"Honey, what-- oh..."

My mother had come up the stairs to see what was going on. I heard the sharp gasp she gave and another, deeper intake of breath from someone whose presence I didn't register completely... I felt my mother's arms around me as she gently pulled me to an upright position. I looked up at her, tears streaking down my face.

"Mother, I... it's broken... I can't put it back together..."

Poor Mother thought I was talking about the crystal heart. "There, there, I know it meant a lot to you..."

I pleaded a bad headache and stayed locked in my room during dinner, huddled in a corner, trying to recover from the blow. It felt like someone had driven a knife into me and was twisting it for all it was worth. God, the agony! How could I have been so blind? He was the reason why I had never dated seriously in college. Every boy I had gone out with had seemed to be missing something. I couldn't define it and here it was, in the one person I thought I had hated all my life. I loved him. Cruel fate it was that I had only realised it the moment I saw him with-- with her.

Hours later, I crept out to the balcony. I saw them on the porch next door. I saw her lift her face to his and how he bent his head tenderly to hers. I fled back into the house in tears, stumbling as my vision blurred with salty tears.


End file.
